Chapter Text
Everything always goes wrong. Are you surprised as I say this?
The mission was going well enough. Party of ghosts in Ithaca, sneak in disguised by Hazel's mist, get intel, skedaddle.
Annabeth and Piper joined me as we trekked uphill, dressed as Greek serving maids. Piper’s mahogany hair was pinned up in a braided spiral. Silver bracelets adorned her arms. She resembled an ancient statue of her mom, Aphrodite, which I found a little intimidating.
I glanced uphill. The summit was still a hundred yards above. Hazel decided to dress me as a war veteran, so I was covered head-to-toe in armor that weighed, like, a million pounds. I already wasn't in the best shape, but the Mist made me feel even worse, like I had a thousand aching wounds and scars.
“Worst idea ever.” I leaned against a cedar tree and wiped my forehead. “Hazel’s magic is too good. If I have to fight, I’ll be useless.”
“It won’t come to that,” Annabeth promised. She looked uncomfortable in her serving-maiden outfit. She kept hunching her shoulders to keep the dress from slipping. Her pinned-up blonde bun had come undone in the back and her hair dangled like long spider legs. Knowing her hatred of spiders, I decided not to mention that.
“We infiltrate the palace,” she said. “We get the information we need, and we get out.”
Piper set down her amphora, the tall ceramic wine jar in which her sword was hidden. “We can rest for a second. Catch your breath, Water Girl.”
From her waist cord hung her cornucopia – the magic horn of plenty. Tucked somewhere in the folds of her dress was her knife, Katoptris. Piper didn’t look dangerous, but if the need arose she could dual-wield Celestial bronze blades or shoot her enemies in the face with ripe mangoes.
Annabeth slung her own amphora off her shoulder. She, too, had a concealed sword, but even without a visible weapon she looked deadly. Her stormy gray eyes scanned the surroundings, alert for any threat. If any dude asked Annabeth for a drink, I figured she was more likely to kick the guy in the bifurcum.
I tried to steady my breathing.
Below us, Afales Bay glittered, the water so blue it might’ve been dyed with food coloring. A few hundred yards offshore, the Argo II rested at anchor. Its white sails looked no bigger than postage stamps, its ninety oars like toothpicks. I didn't like looking at the ship much. All I could think about was Leo. Leo and his stupid fake girlfriend.
“Stupid Ithaca,” I muttered.
I supposed the island was pretty enough. A spine of forested hills twisted down its center. Chalky white slopes plunged into the sea. Inlets formed rocky beaches and harbors where red-roofed houses and white stucco churches nestled against the shoreline.
The hills were dotted with poppies, crocuses and wild cherry trees. The breeze smelled of blooming myrtle. All very nice – except the temperature was about a hundred and five degrees. The air was as steamy as a Roman bathhouse.
It would’ve been easy for me to control the water and surf to the top of the hill, but nooo. For the sake of stealth, I had to struggle along as a hacked-up soldier.
“You sure this is the right hill?” I asked. “Seems kind of – I don’t know – quiet.”
Piper studied the ridgeline. “The ruins are up there,” she promised. “I saw them in Katoptris’s blade. And you heard what Hazel said. “The biggest –” “
“ “The biggest gathering of evil spirits I’ve ever sensed,” “ I recalled. “Yeah, sounds awesome.”
After battling through the underground temple of Hades, the last thing I wanted was to deal with more evil spirits. But the fate of the quest was at stake. The crew of the Argo II had a big decision to make. If we chose wrong, we would fail, and the entire world would be destroyed.
Piper’s blade, Hazel’s magical senses and Annabeth’s instincts all agreed – the answer lay here in Ithaca, at the ancient palace of Odysseus, where a horde of evil spirits had gathered to await Gaea’s orders. The plan was to sneak among them, learn what was going on and decide the best course of action. Then get out, preferably alive.
Annabeth re-adjusted her golden belt. “I hope our disguises hold up. The suitors were nasty customers when they were alive. If they find out we’re demigods –”
“Hazel’s magic will work,” Piper said.
I tried to believe that.
The suitors: a hundred of the greediest, evilest cut-throats who’d ever lived. When Odysseus, the Greek king of Ithaca, went missing after the Trojan War, this mob of B-list princes had invaded his palace and refused to leave, each one hoping to marry Queen Penelope and take over the kingdom. Odysseus managed to return in secret and slaughter them all – your basic happy homecoming. But, if Piper’s visions were right, the suitors were now back, haunting the place where they’d died.
I couldn’t believe I was about to visit the actual palace of Odysseus – one of the most famous Greek heroes of all time. Then again, this whole quest had been one mind-blowing event after another. Annabeth herself had just come back from the eternal abyss of Tartarus. Given that, I decided maybe I shouldn’t complain about being in heavy armor.
“Well …” I steadied myself with my spear. “If I look as gruff as I feel, my disguise must be perfect. Let’s get going.”
As we climbed, sweat trickled down my neck. My calves ached. Despite the heat, I began to shiver. And, try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking about my recent dreams.
Ever since the House of Hades, they’d become more vivid.
Sometimes I stood in the underground temple of Epirus, the giant Clytius looming over me, holding my dismembered arm, speaking in a chorus of disembodied voices: It took all of you together to defeat me. What will you do when the Earth Mother opens her eyes?
Other times I found myself at the crest of Half-Blood Hill. Gaea the Earth Mother rose from the ground – a swirling figure of soil, leaves and stones.
Poor child. Her voice resonated across the landscape, shaking the bedrock under my feet. You have nobody, lest you turn to those weaklings. Your false gods cannot save you.
My worst dream started in the courtyard of the Sonoma Wolf House. Before me stood the goddess Juno, glowing with the radiance of molten silver.
Non Roman, her voice thundered. Traitor.
Her form shifted into someone I didn't recognize, but I'd had plenty of visions of recently. A pale woman in a white dress, her dark hair pinned up, golden arm bands, mauve eyes, and a beauty mark under her right eye.
She lifted a sword made of stygian iron like Nico's, and swung for my neck.
Then the scene changed. I was in the living room of a place I no longer considered home. A woman knelt before me, her dry floral scent so familiar. Her features were watery and indistinct, but I knew her voice: bright and brittle, like the thinnest layer of ice over a fast stream.
He will be back for us, dearest, she said. Soon.
Every time I woke up from that nightmare, my face was beaded with sweat. My eyes stung.
Nico di Angelo had warned us: the House of Hades would stir our worst memories, make us see things and hear things from the past. Our ghosts would become restless.
I had hoped that particular ghost would stay away, but every night the dream got worse. Now I was climbing to the ruins of a palace where an army of ghosts had gathered.
That doesn’t mean she’ll be there, I told myself.
But my hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Every step seemed harder than the last.
“Almost there,” Annabeth said. “Let’s –”
BOOM! The hillside rumbled. Somewhere over the ridge, a crowd roared in approval, like spectators in a coliseum. The sound made my skin crawl.
“What was that explosion?” I wondered.
“Don’t know,” Piper said. “But it sounds like they’re having fun. Let’s go make some dead friends.”
Naturally, the situation was worse than we expected.
It wouldn’t have been any fun otherwise.
Peering through the olive bushes at the top of the rise, I saw what looked like an out-of-control zombie frat party.
The ruins themselves weren’t that impressive: a few stone walls, a weed-choked central courtyard, a dead-end stairwell chiseled into the rock. Some plywood sheets covered a pit and a metal scaffold supported a cracked archway.
But superimposed over the ruins was another layer of reality – a spectral mirage of the palace as it must have appeared in its heyday. Whitewashed stucco walls lined with balconies rose three stories high. Columned porticoes faced the central atrium, which had a huge fountain and bronze braziers. At a dozen banquet tables, ghouls laughed and ate and pushed one another around.
I had expected about a hundred spirits, but twice that many were milling about, chasing spectral serving girls, smashing plates and cups, and basically making a nuisance of themselves.
Most looked like Lares from Camp Jupiter – transparent purple wraiths in tunics and sandals. A few revelers had decayed bodies with gray flesh, matted clumps of hair and nasty wounds. Others seemed to be regular living mortals – some in togas, some in modern business suits or army fatigues. I even spotted one guy in a purple Camp Jupiter T-shirt and Roman legionnaire armor.
In the center of the atrium, a gray-skinned ghoul in a tattered Greek tunic paraded through the crowd, holding a marble bust over his head like a sports trophy. The other ghosts cheered and slapped him on the back. As the ghoul got closer, I noticed that he had an arrow in his throat, the feathered shaft sprouting from his Adam’s apple. Even more disturbing: the bust he was holding … was that Zeus?
“Our next offering!” the ghoul shouted, his voice buzzing from the arrow in his throat. “Let us feed the Earth Mother!”
The partiers yelled and pounded their cups. The ghoul made his way to the central fountain. The crowd parted, and I realized the fountain wasn’t filled with water. From the three-foot-tall pedestal, a geyser of sand spewed upward, arcing into an umbrella-shaped curtain of white particles before spilling into the circular basin.
The ghoul heaved the marble bust into the fountain. As soon as Zeus’s head passed through the shower of sand, the marble disintegrated like it was going through a wood chipper. The sand glittered gold, the color of ichor – godly blood. Then the entire mountain rumbled with a muffled BOOM, as if belching after a meal.
The dead partygoers roared with approval.
“Any more statues?” the ghoul shouted to the crowd. “No? Then I guess we’ll have to wait for some real gods to sacrifice!”
His comrades laughed and applauded as the ghoul plopped himself down at the nearest feast table.
I clenched my spear. “Who does he think he is?”
“I’m guessing that’s Antinous,” said Annabeth, “one of the suitors’ leaders. If I remember right, it was Odysseus who shot him through the neck with that arrow.”
Piper winced. “You’d think that would keep a guy down. What about all the others? Why are there so many?”
“I don’t know,” Annabeth said. “Newer recruits for Gaea, I guess. Some must’ve come back to life before we closed the Doors of Death. Some are just spirits.”
“Some are ghouls,” I said. “The ones with the gaping wounds and the gray skin, like Antinous … I’ve fought their kind before.”
Piper tugged at her braid. “Can they be killed?”
I remembered a quest I'd taken for Camp Jupiter years ago in San Bernardino. “Not easily. They’re strong and fast and intelligent. Also, they eat human flesh.”
“Fantastic,” Annabeth muttered. “I don’t see any option except to stick to the plan. Split up, infiltrate, find out why they’re here. If things go bad –”
“We use the backup plan,” Piper said.
I hated the backup plan.
Before we left the ship, Leo had given each of us an emergency flare the size of a birthday candle. Supposedly, if we tossed one in the air, it would shoot upward in a streak of white phosphorus, alerting the Argo II that the team was in trouble. At that point, we would have a few seconds to take cover before the ship’s catapults fired on our position, engulfing the palace in Greek fire and bursts of Celestial bronze shrapnel.
Not the safest plan, but at least I had the satisfaction of knowing that I could call an air strike on this noisy mob of dead guys if the situation got dicey. Of course, that was assuming we could get away. And assuming Leo’s doomsday candles didn’t go off by accident – Leo’s inventions sometimes did that – in which case the weather would get much hotter, with a ninety percent chance of fiery apocalypse.
“Be careful down there,” I told Piper and Annabeth.
Piper crept around the left side of the ridge. Annabeth went right. I pulled myself up with my spear and hobbled towards the ruins.
I passed through the palace’s ghostly gateway. I realized just in time that a section of mosaic floor in front of me was an illusion covering a ten-foot-deep excavation pit. I sidestepped it and continued into the courtyard.
The two levels of reality reminded me of the Titan stronghold on Mount Othrys – a disorienting maze of black marble walls that randomly melted into shadow and solidified again. Well, I never saw it. I only knew from Jason's description.
Forty feet ahead of me, Piper moved through the crowd, smiling and filling wine glasses for the ghostly revelers. If she was afraid, she didn’t show it. So far the ghosts weren’t paying her any special attention. Hazel’s magic must have been working.
Over on the right, Annabeth collected empty plates and goblets. She wasn’t smiling.
I remembered the talk I'd had with Percy before leaving the ship.
Percy had stayed aboard to watch for threats from the sea, but he hadn’t liked the idea of Annabeth going on this expedition without him – especially since it would be the first time they were apart since returning from Tartarus.
He’d pulled me aside. “Hey, sis … Annabeth would kill me if I suggested she needed anybody to protect her.”
I laughed. “Yeah, she would.”
“But look out for her, okay?”
I squeezed my brother's shoulder. “I’ll make sure she gets back to you safely.”
Now I wondered if I could keep that promise.
I reached the edge of the crowd.
As I walked around, I noticed some of the ghoul's eyes were pure gold. dirt, dust, and sand held them together. The power of Gaea, I thought. The earth is holding these guys together.
I was offered a tray of glasses, their contents some sort of red liquid. I took one and drank it in one swig. It tasted like watered down wine. The ghoul laughed and playfully hit my shoulder. I was surprised I could actually feel it. with the lares back at Camp Jupiter, they couldn't even materialize properly. They had no physical substance. Apparently these spirits did – which meant more enemies who could beat, stab or decapitate me.
As I waddled through the party, I could hear the ghosts talking to Atinous about their spoils. “We have gathered now for a much bigger prize. Once Gaea destroys the gods, we will divide up the remnants of the mortal world!”
“Dibs on London!” yelled a ghoul at the next table.
“Montreal!” shouted another.
“Duluth!” yelled a third, which momentarily stopped the conversation as the other ghosts gave him confused looks.
I decided to get closer to the conversation. I kept my head low, doing my best to make it seem like I was just grabbing food from the different ghoul trays.
Another lare spoke up. “What about the rest of these … guests? I count at least two hundred. Half of them are new to me.”
Antinous’s yellow eyes gleamed. “All of them are suitors for Gaea’s favor. All have claims and grievances against the gods or their pet heroes. That scoundrel over there is Hippias, former tyrant of Athens. He got deposed and sided with the Persians to attack his own countrymen. No morals whatsoever. He’d do anything for power.”
“Thank you!” called Hippias.
“That rogue with the turkey leg in his mouth,” Antinous continued, “that’s Hasdrubal of Carthage. He has a grudge to settle with Rome.”
“Mhhmm,” said the Carthaginian.
“And Michael Varus –”
I choked. “Who?”
Over by the sand fountain, the dark-haired guy in the purple T-shirt and legionnaire armor turned to face us. His outline was blurred, smokey and indistinct, so I guessed he was some form of spirit, but the legion tattoo on his forearm was clear enough: the letters SPQR, the double-faced head of the god Janus and six score marks for years of service. On his breastplate hung the badge of praetorship and the emblem of the Fifth Cohort.
I had never met Michael Varus. The infamous praetor had died in the 1980s. Still, my skin crawled when I met Varus’s gaze. Those sunken eyes seemed to bore right through my disguise.
Antinous waved dismissively. “He’s a Roman demigod. Lost his legion’s eagle in … Alaska, was it? Doesn’t matter. Gaea lets him hang around. He insists he has some insight into defeating Camp Jupiter. But you,” he pointed to me “– you still haven’t answered my question. Why should you be welcome among us?”
sh*t, so he had noticed me. I gripped my spear tight as my hand shook.
Varus’s dead eyes had unnerved me. I could feel the Mist thinning around me, reacting to my uncertainty.
Suddenly Annabeth appeared at Antinous’s shoulder. “More wine, my lord? Oops!”
She spilled the contents of a silver pitcher down the back of Antinous’s neck.
“Gahh!” The ghoul arched his spine. “Foolish girl! Who let you back from Tartarus?”
“A Titan, my lord.” Annabeth dipped her head apologetically. “May I bring you some moist towelettes? Your arrow is dripping.”
“Begone!”
Annabeth caught my eye – a silent message of support – then she disappeared in the crowd.
The ghoul wiped himself off, giving me a chance to collect my thoughts.
If I was a veteran, I wouldn't need to fight. Why would I be here? Why should they accept me?
I raised my spear and slammed it's hilt down against the floor, making the ghosts around him jump.
“Why should you welcome me?” I growled. “Because I’m still fighting for you, you stupid wretches! I’ve just come from the House of Hades!”
That last part was true, and it seemed to give Antinous pause. The ghoul glared at me, wine still dripping from the arrow shaft in his throat. “You expect me to believe Gaea sent you – a retired soldier – to check up on us?”
I laughed. “I was among the last to leave Epirus before the Doors of Death were closed! I saw the chamber where Clytius stood guard under a domed ceiling tiled with tombstones. I walked the jewel-and-bone floors of the Necromanteion!”
That was also true. Around the table, ghosts shifted and muttered.
“So, Antinous …” I jabbed a finger at the ghoul. “Maybe you should explain to me why you’re worthy of Gaea’s favor. All I see is a crowd of lazy, dawdling dead folk enjoying themselves and not helping the war effort. What should I tell the Earth Mother?”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Piper flash me an approving smile. Then she returned her attention to a glowing purple Greek dude who was trying to make her sit on his lap.
Antinous wrapped his hand around a steak knife a ghoul had impaled in the table. He pulled it free and studied the blade. “If you come from Gaea, you must know we are here under orders. Porphyrion decreed it.” Antinous ran the knife blade across his palm. Instead of blood, dry dirt spilled from the cut. “You do know Porphyrion … ?”
I struggled to keep my nausea under control. I remembered Porphyrion just fine from our battle at the Wolf House. “The giant king – green skin, forty feet tall, white eyes, hair braided with weapons. Of course I know him. He’s a lot more impressive than you.”
I decided not to mention that the last time I'd seen the giant king, I had used his own blood to control him.
For once, Antinous looked speechless, but his bald ghost friend Eurymachus put an arm around my shoulders.
“Now, now, friend!” Eurymachus smelled like sour wine and burning electrical wires. His ghostly touch made my ribcage tingle. “I’m sure we didn’t mean to question your credentials! It’s just, well, if you’ve spoken with Porphyrion in Athens, you know why we’re here. I assure you, we’re doing exactly as he ordered!”
I tried to mask my surprise. Porphyrion in Athens.
Gaea had promised to pull up the gods by their roots. Chiron, my mentor at Camp Half-Blood, had assumed that meant that the giants would try to rouse the earth goddess at the original Mount Olympus. But now …
“The Acropolis,” I said. “The most ancient temples to the gods, in the middle of Athens. That’s where Gaea will wake.”
“Of course!” Eurymachus laughed. The wound in his chest made a popping sound, like a porpoise’s blowhole. “And, to get there, those meddlesome demigods will have to travel by sea, eh? They know it’s too dangerous to fly over land.”
“Which means they’ll have to pass this island,” I said.
Eurymachus nodded eagerly. He removed his arm from my shoulders and dipped his finger in his wine glass. “At that point, they’ll have to make a choice, eh?”
On the tabletop, he traced a coastline, red wine glowing unnaturally against the wood. He drew Greece like a mis-shapen hourglass – a large dangly blob for the northern mainland, then another blob below it, almost as large – the big chunk of land known as the Peloponnese. Cutting between them was a narrow line of sea – the Straits of Corinth.
I hardly needed a picture. I and the rest of the crew had spent the last day at sea studying maps.
“The most direct route,” Eurymachus said, “would be due east from here, across the Straits of Corinth. But if they try to go that way –”
“Enough,” Antinous snapped. “You have a loose tongue, Eurymachus.”
The ghost looked offended. “I wasn’t going to tell him everything! Just about the Cyclopes armies massed on either shore. And the raging storm spirits in the air. And those vicious sea monsters Keto sent to infest the waters. And of course if the ship got as far as Delphi –”
“Idiot!” Antinous lunged across the table and grabbed the ghost’s wrist. A thin crust of dirt spread from the ghoul’s hand, straight up Eurymachus’s spectral arm.
“No!” Eurymachus yelped. “Please! I – I only meant –”
The ghost screamed as the dirt covered his body like a shell, then cracked apart, leaving nothing but a pile of dust. Eurymachus was gone.
Antinous sat back and brushed off his hands. The other suitors at the table watched him in wary silence.
“Apologies.” The ghoul smiled coldly. “All you need to know is this – the ways to Athens are well guarded, just as we promised. The demigods would either have to risk the straits, which are impossible, or sail around the entire Peloponnese, which is hardly much safer. In any event, it’s unlikely they will survive long enough to make that choice. Once they reach Ithaca, we will know. We will stop them here and Gaea will see how valuable we are. You can take that message back to Athens.”
My heart hammered against my sternum. I'd never seen anything like the shell of earth that Antinous had summoned to destroy Eurymachus. I didn’t want to find out if that power worked on demigods.
Also, Antinous sounded confident that he could detect the Argo II. Hazel’s magic seemed to be obscuring the ship so far, but there was no telling how long that would last.
I had the intel we'd come for. Our goal was Athens. The safer route, or at least the not impossible route, was around the southern coast. Today was July 20th. We only had twelve days before Gaea planned to wake, on August 1st, the ancient Feast of Hope.
We needed to leave while we had the chance.
But something else bothered me – a cold sense of foreboding, as if I hadn’t heard the worst news yet.
Eurymachus had mentioned Delphi. I had secretly hoped to visit the ancient site of Apollo’s Oracle, maybe get some insight into my personal future- which is what started the argument between me and the twins-, but if the place had been overrun by monsters …
I pushed aside my plate of cold food. “Sounds like everything is under control. For your sake, Antinous, I hope so. These demigods are resourceful. They closed the Doors of Death. We wouldn’t want them sneaking past you, perhaps getting help from Delphi.”
Antinous chuckled. “No risk of that. Delphi is no longer in Apollo’s control.”
“I – I see. And if the demigods sail the long way around the Peloponnese?”
“You worry too much. That journey is never safe for demigods, and it’s much too far. Besides, Victory runs rampant in Olympia. As long as that’s the case, there is no way the demigods can win this war.”
I didn’t understand what that meant either, but I nodded. “Very well. I will report as much to King Porphyrion. Thank you for the, er, meal.”
Over at the fountain, Michael Varus called, “Wait.”
I bit back a curse. I'd been trying to ignore the dead praetor, but now Varus walked over, surrounded in a hazy white aura, his deep-set eyes like sinkholes. At his side hung an Imperial gold gladius.
“You must stay,” Varus said.
Antinous shot the ghost an irritated look. “What’s the problem, legionnaire? If the veteran wants to leave, let him!”
The other ghosts laughed nervously. Across the courtyard, Piper shot me a worried glance. A little further away, Annabeth casually palmed a carving knife from the nearest platter of meat.
Varus rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. Despite the heat, his breastplate was glazed with ice. “I lost my cohort twice in Alaska – once in life, once in death to a Graecus named Percy Jackson. Still I have come here to answer Gaea’s call. Do you know why?”
I swallowed. “Stubbornness?”
“This is a place of longing,” Varus said. “All of us are drawn here, sustained not only by Gaea’s power but also by our strongest desires. Eurymachus’s greed. Antinous’s cruelty.”
“You flatter me,” the ghoul muttered.
“Hasdrubal’s hatred,” Varus continued. “Hippias’s bitterness. My ambition. And you, soldier. What has drawn you here? What does a veteran most desire? Perhaps freedom?”
An uncomfortable tingle started at the base of my skull – the same feeling I got when a huge electrical storm was about to break.
“I should be going,” I said. “Messages to carry.”
Michael Varus drew his sword. “My father is Janus, the god of two faces. I am used to seeing through masks and deceptions. Do you know, soldier, why we are so sure the demigods will not pass our island undetected?”
I silently ran through my repertoire of Latin cuss words. I tried to calculate how long it would take me to get out his emergency flare and fire it. Hopefully I could buy enough time for the girls to find shelter before this mob of dead guys slaughtered me.
I turned to Antinous. “Look, are you in charge here or not? Maybe you should muzzle your Roman.”
The ghoul took a deep breath. The arrow rattled in his throat. “Ah, but this might be entertaining. Go on, Varus.”
The dead praetor raised his sword. “Our desires reveal us. They show us for who we really are. Someone has come for you,” and when he said my name, my skin felt like fire.
Behind Varus, the crowd parted. The shimmering ghost of a woman drifted forward, and I felt as if my bones were turning to dust.
“My dearest,” said my mother’s ghost. “You have come home.”
My Mist disguise burned off. My posture straightened. My scars stopped aching. My spear turned back into my Imperial gold trident.
My heart stopped beating. My lips parted.
It was my mom.
She looked just as she did before she hit her lowest- still full of some life, some joy, some hope.
I never was able to spot what my mom and I shared in our features. We looked related, but never as mother and daughter. Maybe cousins? I wasn't sure. I never had a picture of us together to compare.
My right arm trembled. I held my trident tighter, which only led to more shaking.
The memory of her death ran through my mind. No, her murder. I murdered her.
I choked a noise half between a sob and a gag. My eye began to dry out from how long I'd been staring.
My mother stood before me. She looked into my eye, and her expression altered slightly, looking more disgusted than happy now.
“Mom?” I managed.
“Yes, dearest.” Her image flickered. “Come, embrace me.”
“You’re – you’re not real.”
“Of course she is real.” Michael Varus’s voice sounded far away. “Did you think Gaea would let such an important spirit languish in the Underworld? She is your mother, sweetheart to the ruler of the sea, who never fully loved her. She deserves justice as much as any of us.”
My heart felt wobbly. The suitors crowded around me, watching.
I’m their entertainment, I realized. The ghosts probably found this even more amusing than fighting the others on the Argo II.
Piper’s voice cut through the buzzing in my head. “Hey, look at me.”
She stood twenty feet away, holding her ceramic amphora. Her smile was gone. Her gaze was fierce and commanding. “That isn’t your mother. Her voice is working some kind of magic on you – like charmspeak, but more dangerous. Can’t you sense it?”
“She’s right.” Annabeth climbed onto the nearest table. She kicked aside a platter, startling a dozen suitors. “That’s only a remnant of your mother, like an ara, maybe, or –”
“A remnant!” My mother’s ghost sobbed. “Yes, look what I have been reduced to. It’s Neptune's fault. He abandoned us. He wouldn’t help me! Why fight for them now? Join these suitors. Lead them. We can be a family again!”
I felt hundreds of eyes on him.
I still couldn't move. I could barely think. My body was switching between so many emotions and memories. Nausea swirled in my gut. I had a tendency to puke at important reunions. I didn't want to now.
In the middle of this stupid party, I found a hole to curl up inside myself to be sorry. Sorry now, after everything had already happened. After she died.
I stared at her again, drinking in the memory of her face, her ever switching emotions.
“Loveless another,” my mom whispered the lines to a lullaby I onced loved. “Daughter and mother.”
I felt my insides shatter.
“I'm sorry,” I gasped, dropping my trident. “I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”
I tried to get myself angry. To think of all the bad things she did. Her stupid vodka co*cktail parties where she'd get so drunk that all her lies unfolded like a ribbon in the windy distance.
“I'm so sorry,” I repeated. “I didn't mean to-”
Her palm connected with my cheek faster than I could see. The impact was so rough, it turned my face.
“You should be,” my mother said. “Look what you did to me. Just like your father.”
“No!” I yelped. “No, no!”
I sounded so stupid. Like a street dog whimpering.
Across the table, Antinous raised his goblet. “So pleased to meet you, daughter of Neptune. Listen to your mother. You have many grievances against the gods. Why not join us? I gather these two serving girls are your friends? We will spare them. You wish to have your mother remain in the world? We can do that. You wish to be a ruler –”
“No.” my mind was spinning. “No, I don’t belong with you.”
Michael Varus regarded me with cold eyes. “Are you so sure, my fellow Roman? Even if you defeat the giants and Gaea, would you return home like Odysseus did? Where is your home now? With the Greeks? With the Romans? No one will accept you. And, if you get back, who’s to say you won’t find ruins like this?”
I scanned the palace courtyard. Without the illusory balconies and colonnades, there was nothing but a heap of rubble on a barren hilltop. Only the fountain seemed real, spewing forth sand like a reminder of Gaea’s limitless power.
“You were a legion officer,” I told Varus. “A leader of Rome.”
“So were you,” Varus said. “Loyalties change.”
“You think I belong with this crowd?” I asked. “A bunch of dead losers waiting for a free handout from Gaea, whining that the world owes them something?”
Around the courtyard, ghosts and ghouls rose to their feet and drew weapons.
“Beware!” Piper yelled at the crowd. “Every man in this palace is your enemy. Each one will stab you in the back at the first chance!”
Over the last few weeks, Piper’s charmspeak had become truly powerful. She spoke the truth, and the crowd believed her. They looked sideways at one another, hands clenching the hilts of their swords.
My mother stepped towards me. “Dearest, be sensible. Give up your quest. Your Argo II could never make the trip to Athens. Even if it did, there’s the matter of the Athena Parthenos.”
A tremor passed through me. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t feign ignorance, my dearest. Gaea knows about your friends Reyna and Nico, the son of Hades, and the satyr Hedge. To kill them, the Earth Mother has sent her most dangerous son – the hunter who never rests. But you don’t have to die.”
The ghouls and ghosts closed in – two hundred of them facing me in anticipation, as if I might lead them in the national anthem.
The hunter who never rests.
I didn’t know who that was, but I had to warn Reyna and Nico.
Which meant I had to get out of here alive.
I looked at Annabeth and Piper. Both stood ready, waiting for my cue.
I forced myself to meet my mother’s eyes. She looked like the same woman I'd drained the life of years ago. But I wasn’t a kid any more. I was a battle veteran, a demigod who’d faced death countless times.
And what I saw in front of me wasn’t my mother – at least, not what my mother should be – caring, loving, selflessly protective.
A remnant, Annabeth had called her.
Michael Varus had told me that the spirits here were sustained by their strongest desires. The spirit of my mother literally glowed with need. Her eyes demanded my attention- my father's attention. Her arms reached out, desperate to possess me.
“What do you want?” I asked. “What brought you here?”
“I want life!” she cried. “Youth! Beauty! Your father could have made me immortal. He could have taken me to Olympus, but he abandoned me. You can set things right, baby girl. You are my proud warrior!”
Her lemony scent turned acrid, as if she were starting to burn.
“You’re a mania,” I decided, the word coming to me from my studies at Camp Jupiter long ago. “A spirit of insanity. That’s what you’ve been reduced to.”
“I am all that remains,” my mother agreed. Her image flickered through a spectrum of colors. “Embrace me, daughter. I am all you have left.”
I felt like I was being reassembled, one layer at a time. My heartbeat steadied. The chill left my bones. My skin warmed in the afternoon sun.
“No,” I croaked. I looked back at my mother for the last time. “I’m no child of yours.”
I thrust my trident through her chest, and she dissolved before my eyes.
I'd killed my mother for a second time.
The ghoul Antinous tossed aside his goblet. He studied me with a look of lazy disgust. “Well, then,” he said, “I suppose we’ll just kill you.”
All around me, the enemies closed in.
The fight was going great – until I got stabbed.
I slashed my trident in a wide arc, vaporizing the nearest suitors, then I vaulted onto the table and jumped right over Antinous’s head. In midair I thrust my trident through Antinous's toga, pulling him out of his seat.
I landed on my feet holding as Antinous turned to face me. I thrust the Imperial gold point through the ghoul’s chest.
Antinous looked down incredulously. “You –”
“Enjoy the Fields of Punishment.” I yanked out my trident and Antinous crumbled to dirt.
I kept fighting, spinning my trident – piercing through ghosts, knocking ghouls off their feet.
Across the courtyard, Annabeth fought like a demon, too. Her drakon-bone sword scythed down any suitors stupid enough to face her.
Over by the sand fountain, Piper had also drawn her sword – the jagged bronze blade she’d taken from Zethes the Boread. She stabbed and parried with her right hand, occasionally shooting tomatoes from the cornucopia in her left, while yelling at the suitors, “Save yourselves! I’m too dangerous!”
That must have been exactly what they wanted to hear, because her opponents kept running away, only to freeze in confusion a few yards downhill, then charge back into the fight.
The Greek tyrant Hippias lunged at Piper, his dagger raised, but Piper blasted him point-blank in the chest with a lovely pot roast. He tumbled backwards into the fountain and screamed as he disintegrated.
An arrow whistled towards my face. I knocked it aside with a swing of my trident, then cut through a line of sword-wielding ghouls and noticed a dozen suitors regrouping by the fountain to charge Annabeth. I lifted my trident and threw it with my good arm, blasting through the ghosts and turning them to ions, leaving a crater where the sand fountain had been.
I'd usually have some fun during a fight, but I mostly felt like my chest cavity had been ripped open. Aside from that pain, using only one arm to fight was just as bad. My nerves hadn't reconnected in my left arm yet, so I could only swing my trident with my right arm. It was growing pretty sore now,
I straightened my trident and flung three ghouls off the side of the hill like rag dolls. I skewered a fourth and hacked through another group of spirits.
Soon no more enemies faced me. The remaining ghosts began to disappear on their own. Annabeth cut down Hasdrubal the Carthaginian, and I made the mistake of putting away my trident.
Pain flared in my lower back – so sharp and cold I thought Khione the snow goddess had come for revenge.
Next to my ear, Michael Varus snarled, “Born a Roman, die a Roman.”
The tip of a golden sword jutted through the front of my shirt, just below my ribcage.
I fell to my knees. Piper’s scream sounded miles away. I felt like I'd been immersed in salty water – my body weightless, my head swaying.
Piper charged towards me. I watched with detached emotion as her sword passed over my head and cut through Michael Varus’s armor with a metallic ka-chunk.
A burst of cold parted my hair from behind. Dust settled around me, and an empty legionnaire’s helmet rolled across the stones. The evil demigod was gone – but he had made a lasting impression.
Piper yelped my name and grabbed my shoulders as I began to fall sideways. I gasped as she pulled the sword out of my back. Then she lowered me to the ground, propping my head against a stone.
Annabeth ran to my side. She had a nasty cut on the side of her neck.
“Gods.” Annabeth stared at the wound in my gut. “Oh, gods.”
“Thanks,” I groaned. “I was afraid it might be bad.”
My arms and legs started to tingle as my body went into crisis mode, sending all the blood to my chest. The pain was dull, which surprised me, but my shirt was soaked red. The wound was smoking. I was pretty sure sword wounds weren’t supposed to smoke.
“You’re going to be fine.” Piper spoke the words like an order. Her tone steadied his breathing. “Annabeth, ambrosia!”
Annabeth stirred. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.” She ripped through her supply pouch and unwrapped a piece of godly food.
“We have to stop the bleeding.” Piper used her dagger to cut fabric from the bottom of her dress. She ripped the cloth into bandages.
I dimly wondered how she knew so much first aid. She wrapped the wounds on my back and stomach while Annabeth pushed tiny bites of ambrosia into my mouth.
Annabeth’s fingers trembled. After all the things she’d been through, I found it odd that she would freak out now while Piper acted so calm. Then it occurred to me – Annabeth could afford to be scared for me. Piper couldn’t. She was completely focused on trying to save me.
I wish I hadn't angered them so bad earlier. Maybe Dolos and Apate could have helped.
Annabeth fed me another bite. “I – I’m sorry. About your mom. But the way you handled it … that was so brave.”
I tried not to close my eye. Every time I did, I saw my mom’s spirit disintegrating.
“It wasn’t her,” I said. “At least, no part of her I could save. There was no other choice.”
Annabeth took a shaky breath. “No other right choice, maybe, but … a friend of mine, Luke. His mom … similar problem. He didn’t handle it as well. Same with Thalia.”
Her voice broke. I didn’t know much about Annabeth’s past, but Piper glanced over in concern.
“I’ve bandaged as much as I can,” she said. “Blood is still soaking through. And the smoke. I don’t get that.”
“Imperial gold,” Annabeth said, her voice quavering. “It’s deadly to demigods. It’s only a matter of time before –”
“She'll be all right,” Piper insisted. “We’ve got to get her back to the ship. Get her some water.”
“I don’t feel that bad,” I said. And it was true. The ambrosia had cleared my head. Warmth was seeping back into my limbs. “Maybe I could surf …”
I sat up. My vision turned a pale shade of green. “Or maybe not …”
Piper caught my shoulders as I keeled sideways. “Whoa, Water Girl. We need to contact the Argo II, get help.”
Annabeth scanned the ruins. The magic veneer had faded, leaving only broken walls and excavation pits. “We could use the emergency flares, but –”
“No,” I said. “Leo would blast the top of the hill with Greek fire. Maybe, if you guys helped me, I could walk –”
“Absolutely not,” Piper objected. “That would take too long.” She rummaged in her belt pouch and pulled out a compact mirror. “Annabeth, you know Morse code?”
“Of course.”
“So does Leo.” Piper handed her the mirror. “He’ll be watching from the ship. Go to the ridge –”
“And flash him!” Annabeth’s face reddened. “That came out wrong. But, yeah, good idea.”
She ran to the edge of the ruins.
Piper pulled out a flask of nectar and gave me a sip. “Hang in there. You are not dying from a stupid body piercing.”
I managed a weak smile. “At least I didn't lose a body part finally.”
“You defeated, like, two hundred enemies,” Piper said. “You were scary amazing.”
“You guys helped.”
“Maybe, but … Hey, stay with me.”
My head started to droop. The cracks in the stones came into sharper focus.
“Little dizzy,” I muttered.
“More nectar,” Piper ordered. “There. Taste okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, fine.”
In fact the nectar tasted like liquid sawdust, but I kept that to myself. Ever since I'd made the pact with the gods, ambrosia and nectar didn’t taste like my favorite foods. It was as if the memory of my old home no longer had the power to heal me.
Born a Roman, die a Roman, Michael Varus had said.
I looked at the smoke curling from my bandages. I had worse things to worry about than blood loss. Annabeth was right about Imperial gold. The stuff was deadly to demigods as well as monsters. The wound from Varus’s blade would do its best to eat away at my life force.
I'd seen a demigod die like that once before. It hadn’t been fast or pretty.
I can’t die, I told myself. My friends are depending on me.
Antinous’s words rang in my ears – about the giants in Athens, the impossible trip facing the Argo II, the mysterious hunter Gaea had sent to intercept the Athena Parthenos.
“Reyna, Nico and Coach Hedge,” I said. “They’re in danger. We need to warn them.”
“We’ll take care of it when we get back to the ship,” Piper promised. “Your job right now is to relax.” Her tone was light and confident, but her eyes brimmed with tears. “Besides, those three are a tough group. They’ll be fine.”
I hoped she was right. Reyna had risked so much to help us. Coach Hedge was annoying sometimes, but he’d been a loyal protector for the entire crew. And Nico … I felt especially worried about him.
Another wave of pain made me wince.
“Concentrate on my voice.” Piper kissed my hand. “Think about something good. The sleepover before the Grand Canyon trip –”
“That was nice.”
“Last winter,” she suggested. “The s’mores fight at the campfire.”
“I totally got you.”
“You had marshmallows in your hair for days!”
“I did not.”
My mind drifted back to better times.
I just wanted to stay there – talking with Piper, holding her hand, not worrying about giants or Gaea or my mother’s madness.
I knew we should get back to the ship. I was in bad shape. we had the information we'd come for. But as I lay there on the cool stones, I felt a sense of incompleteness. The story of the suitors and Queen Penelope … my thoughts about family … my recent dreams. Those things all swirled around in my head. There was something more to this place – something I'd missed.
Annabeth came back limping from the edge of the hill.
“Are you hurt?” I asked her.
Annabeth glanced at her ankle. “It’s fine. Just the old break from the Roman caverns. Sometimes when I’m stressed … That’s not important. I signaled Leo. Frank’s going to change form, fly up here and carry you back to the ship. I need to make a litter to keep you stable.”
I had a terrifying image of myself in a hammock, swinging between the claws of Frank the giant eagle, but I decided it would be better than dying.
Annabeth set to work. She collected scraps left behind by the suitors – a leather belt, a torn tunic, sandal straps, a red blanket and a couple of broken spear shafts. Her hands flew across the materials – ripping, weaving, tying, braiding.
“How are you doing that?” I asked in amazement.
“Learned it during my quest under Rome.” Annabeth kept her eyes on her work. “I’d never had a reason to try weaving before, but it’s handy for certain things, like getting away from spiders …”
She tied off one last bit of leather cord and voilà – a stretcher large enough for me, with spear shafts as carrying handles and safety straps across the middle.
Piper whistled appreciatively. “The next time I need a dress altered, I’m coming to you.”
“Shut up, McLean,” Annabeth said, but her eyes glinted with satisfaction. “Now, let’s get her secured –”
“Wait,” I said.
My heart pounded. Watching Annabeth weave the makeshift bed, I had remembered the story of Penelope – how she’d held out for twenty years, waiting for her husband Odysseus to return.
“A bed,” I said. “There was a special bed in this palace.”
Piper looked worried. “Girl, you’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“I’m not hallucinating,” I insisted. “The marriage bed was sacred. If there was any place you could talk to Juno …” I took a deep breath and called, “Juno!”
Silence.
Maybe Piper was right. I wasn’t thinking clearly.
Then, about sixty feet away, the stone floor cracked. Branches muscled through the earth, growing in fast motion until a full-sized olive tree shaded the courtyard. Under a canopy of gray-green leaves stood a dark-haired woman in a white dress, a leopard-skin cape draped over her shoulders. Her staff was topped with a white lotus flower. Her expression was cool and regal.
“My heroes,” said the goddess.
“Hera,” Piper said.
“Juno,” I corrected.
“Whatever,” Annabeth grumbled. “What are you doing here, Your Bovine Majesty?”
Juno’s dark eyes glittered dangerously. “Annabeth Chase. As charming as ever.”
“Yeah, well,” Annabeth said, “I just got back from Tartarus, so my manners are a little rusty, especially towards goddesses who wiped my boyfriend’s memory, made him disappear for months and then –”
“Honestly, child. Are we going to rehash this again?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be suffering from split-personality disorder?” Annabeth asked. “I mean – more so than usual?”
“Whoa,” I interceded. I had plenty of reasons to hate Juno, but we had other issues to deal with. “Juno, we need your help. We –” I tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. my insides felt like they were being twirled on a giant spaghetti fork.
Piper kept me from falling over. “First things first,” she said. “She is hurt. Heal her!”
The goddess knitted her eyebrows. Her form shimmered unsteadily.
“Some things even the gods cannot heal,” she said. “This wound touches your soul as well as your body. You must fight it… you must survive.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said, my mouth dry. “I’m trying.”
“What do you mean, the wound touches her soul?” Piper demanded. “Why can’t you –”
“My heroes, our time together is short,” Juno said. “I am grateful that you called upon me. I have spent weeks in a state of pain and confusion … my Greek and Roman natures are warring against each other. Worse, I’ve been forced to hide from Jupiter, who searches for me in his misguided wrath, believing that I caused this war with Gaea.”
“Gee,” Annabeth said, “why would he think that?”
Juno flashed her an irritated look. “Fortunately, this place is sacred to me. By clearing away those ghosts, you have purified it and given me a moment of clarity. I will be able to speak with you – if only briefly.”
“Why is it sacred … ?” Piper’s eyes widened. “Oh. The marriage bed!”
“Marriage bed?” Annabeth asked. “I don’t see any –”
“The bed of Penelope and Odysseus,” Piper explained. “One of its bedposts was a living olive tree, so it could never be moved.”
“Indeed.” Juno ran her hand along the olive tree’s trunk. “An immovable marriage bed. Such a beautiful symbol! Like Penelope, the most faithful wife, standing her ground, fending off a hundred arrogant suitors for years because she knew her husband would return. Odysseus and Penelope – the epitome of a perfect marriage!”
Even in my dazed state, I was pretty sure I remembered stories about Odysseus falling for other women during his travels, but I decided not to bring that up.
“Can you advise us, at least?” I asked. “Tell us what to do?”
“Sail around the Peloponnese,” said the goddess. “As you suspect, that is the only possible route. On your way, seek out the goddess of victory in Olympia. She is out of control. Unless you can subdue her, the rift between Greek and Roman can never be healed.”
“You mean Nike?” Annabeth asked. “How is she out of control?”
Thunder boomed overhead, shaking the hill.
“Explaining would take too long,” Juno said. “I must flee before Jupiter finds me. Once I leave, I will not be able to help you again.”
I bit back a retort: When did you help me the first time?
“What else should we know?” I asked.
“As you heard, the giants have gathered in Athens. Few gods will be able to help you on your journey, but I am not the only Olympian who is out of favor with Jupiter. The twins have also incurred his wrath.”
“Artemis and Apollo?” Piper asked. “Why?”
Juno’s image began to fade. “If you reach the island of Delos, they might be prepared to help you. They are desperate enough to try anything to make amends. Go now. Perhaps we will meet again in Athens, if you succeed. If you do not …”
The goddess disappeared, or maybe my eyesight simply failed. Pain rolled through me. My head lolled back. I saw a giant eagle circling high above. Then the blue sky turned black, and I saw nothing at all.
-
I was on a beach when I woke up. The moon was at the apex of the sky, shining a white glow on my skin and surroundings. I could see the constellations clearly, and I aimed right for the big dipper. It was the only one I knew by heart.
The smell of burnt barbeque caught my nose. I looked over and saw a firepit a few yards away. There was some corn and hamburgers that I was supposed to watch. I walked over to the barbecue and waved the smoke from my face. I grabbed my silver tongs and flipped the food.
as I turned over the corn, I began to feel like I was reliving a memory, rather than the present. It quickly washed over me that this wasn't a beach in Greece, but rather California. Hunnington, to be more precise. That would explain me having to watch over the food. I was with my mom.
I looked away from the charcoal flames and toward the ocean. There she was, just as I remembered.
Underneath the white light of the moon, she stood so still. Her back was towards me as she stared out into the water, warming her eyes to the sea.
She often did this. she'd offer to take me to the beach in her beat up minivan, promise to cook the food, then wander to the foamy waters and stay there the whole night, finishing a new pack of cigarettes. It was hardly a way to be free, but she seemed to enjoy it, probably because she'd drop her cigarette butts in the sea and make my father mad.
I just thought she liked polluting. But thinking back on it, a lot of her actions made sense.
I sighed as I watched her finish her pack of Camel's, tossing the box into the waves as well. Then, I was at her side, wrapping a towel around her shoulders, and walking her back to the firepit.
She sat in front of the flames and ignored her food on the plate. She turned to her side and found her journal, which she forbade me from ever looking into. As she held herself by the fire, she cracked open the pages and began scribbling what I assumed was nonsense. She usually would write letters to my dad and save them for times like this, where she'd toss them into the fire pit and watch the smoke curl into the sky.
I'd of course looked inside her notebook. There wasn't anything she could hide from me, really. Part of it was for her own safety. I mean, as I watched her mental state decline, I had to make sure she wasn't planning something stupid. I hated taking care of my own parent. It felt like the roles were reversed.
As I watched the white pages turn gold from the flames, she decided to toss her food into the pit as well. I remember I'd begun fighting with her after this, but I stayed quiet in my dream. I seemed to finally understand that all she wanted was one sacrifice from my father. One thing from him- a hug or a kiss or to take me away. Anything.
I looked up from the food on my plate and stared at my mom. The flames illuminated her features, and I could see stale tears in her eyes.
“I'll wait for you,” she whispered to the fire. “I'll wait for…”
A piece of burning paper flew into my lap, scorching the skin on my thighs. Before it turned to ashes, I could read my mom's handwriting.
Heartbreak and ponytails.
Whatever that meant.
-
My eye opened to the surroundings of sick bay. I took a deep breath and turned my head. Nobody was in the room with me.
I exhaled as I sat up, my torso engulfed in pain. Right, I almost died. Groaning, I swung my legs over the cot and stood up to get dressed. I put on my jeans and tank top, readjusted my eyepatch, and stumbled out of the room.
Everyone seemed to be busy upstairs. I'd have to join them eventually, now that I was up. But since I seemed to have time to myself…
I wandered down the hall toward everyone's personal cabins. I knew Leo was never in his- it was too messy, and he preferred sleeping in the engine room. Sometimes, Prometheus would force me to watch him as he slept, letting that ache in my heart pluck me apart. Something about “people won't fight for you like you fight for them.”
His lessons were always so weird. Meanwhile, the twins…
Dolos was whatever. His training regiments were bizarre but I mean, I could handle them. But that Apate? She freaked me out, but she promised me her strength.
I'd made them upset the other day, though. I guess I insulted their ideals or whatever. They'll talk to me when they feel like it.
I made my way into Leo's room, breathing in the faint scent of him and studying his mess. Nothing much had changed since I'd last been in here, but now the mattress was covered in another random project.
I turned my head to his project desk, seeing notes scribbled in spanish on another blueprint of his. His handwriting was so messy, unlike when we'd been in school together. He must have felt frustrated or rushed when he wrote them.
Above his desk was a corkboard that he had some things pinned to. He'd taken down a picture of us, and probably burnt it or something. Who knows.
Then he had his drawing of the Argo II, and… what?
A charcoal drawing of a woman. She looked young. I studied her almond-shaped eyes, her pouty lips, her long straight hair swept over one shoulder of her sleeveless dress.
And she was pinned next to the crayon drawing Leo did of the Argo II as a kid. It was almost like he was saying “dreams come true”.
Wow. I felt my stomach twist, which somehow hurt my chest even more.
That's her, Apate said in my mind. Calypso.
“The other woman,” I mumbled.
No, Apate whispered, her cold voice sending a chill down my back. You're the other woman.
A breath escaped my lips, making a sound like a sob. I quickly left Leo's room, making my way down the hall. I leaned against the wall as I walked, feeling the energy escape my form.
“Not fair?” Apate said, standing next to me in her physical form. I felt a little weird looking at her, considering all she wore was a sheer white cloth, like she was a sexy ghost. I tried to focus on her green eyes or the long blonde hair that cascaded down her back. “I know you're hurting.”
“And what about it?” I asked, holding my hand over my recent wound. “I'm always hurting.”
Apate grabbed my left hand- the one that I couldn't feel- and laced our fingers together. “I hurt too. It took three betrayals for me to finally understand the world is just an elaborate tapestry of lies.”
I leaned on Apate as she guided me throughout the ship, and I felt her cold skin against mine.
“The first to betray me was a god,” Apate said, squeezing my numb hand. “My creator… my mother. The second was a human, my friend. Consumed by fear, she saw me as an abomination. The third was one exactly like me. A hope for the future.”
Apate's eyes burned a brighter green, and my stomach twisted in on itself. “Dolos, do you remember Livana?”
The wizard twin was on my other side, the golden snake twisting around the hollow crevices in his face before speaking. “Livana…”
He tapped his long fingernail against his chin before laughing. “The dead one! Yeah, I haven't thought about her in a looong time!”
Apate sneered at her brother. “How could you say that? She was the great pain of our life!”
Dolos tilted his head, twirling a lock of blair hair between his fingers. “Hm. Well, that's not how I remember it.”
I waved my hand and pushed myself away from the twins. “I don't feel like Leo betrayed me. If anything, it was my fault. My heart is his. It's him that I hold onto. And I know I was wrong, but I won't let him down. I won't let him go. Not on my watch.”
Apate sneered, crossing her arms. “I don't think that'll happen.”
“Apate,” Dolos said, his tone nervous.
His sister held up her hand, telling him to be quiet. “The fates have it out for you, girl. You've never heard your prophecy, have you?”
My spine went cold.
“What?” I turned to look at Apate. “What are you talking about?”
“Apate, it's not time,” Dolos warned.
But Apate didn't listen to him.
“Every single thing you try to hold will fade like a dying ember,” Apate said, her eye boring into mine. “Gasping like a foal thrown in the water, you will refuse surrender. Taken by the light with pitiless eyes, you were afraid of leaving. Bones are raised in time, but soon you’ll find a lull that feels like breathing. Dismantling muscle memory piece by piece.”
It didn't sound like a prophecy to me. But the way it made my soul feel like I was a deer caught in headlights, I knew it to be true.
And so did the twins.
